


The Same Deep Water as You

by Allthephils



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Depression, Established Relationship, Love, M/M, Meditation, Sexuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-10 01:00:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16460447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allthephils/pseuds/Allthephils
Summary: Dan meditates on Tuesdays but meditation takes many forms.





	The Same Deep Water as You

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on Tumblr @allthephils  
> And if you’d like to reblog, you may do so [here](http://allthephils.tumblr.com/post/179583957420/ficlet-the-same-deep-water-as-you-word-count-900)

Tuesday evenings, Dan meditates. He sits in a chair or on the bed or sometimes in the summer, he sits in the garden. He puts his headphones on and focuses on a non- threatening, feminine voice as it attempts to guide him. The goal, he’s told, is to clear his mind and calm his tumultuous emotional state. His therapist recommends he work up to a daily practice once the weekly sessions start to feel more natural to him. Natural still feels a world away. On the best days, he’s proud of the 5 minutes of clarity he gets after a 15 minute struggle to focus and just fucking breathe. On the worst days, he simply loses 20 minutes, watching himself fidget from the corner of the room, wondering what’s real, drifting.

 

Dan is perched on the arm of the sofa where he settled after coming in from washing a load of laundry. He loves this room. He loves the open plan and the way the dark grey sofa contrasts with the stark white walls. He loves how the gas fireplace gives the illusion of warmth that’s actually supplied by central forced heating. Mostly, he loves the calm he feels here. The television is nearly always on, supplying a droning backing track to life and preventing too much uncomfortable silence.

 

The sun is low in the sky and a gentle light bathes the room through the wall of windows. That’s the only thing Phil really wanted, windows. Gratitude sits warm in Dan’s heart as he watches Phil, legs folded under him, body weaving like a boxer to control the game he plays.

 

He doesn’t much like to think where he’d be if he hadn’t met Phil. A younger version of Dan would have said he didn’t deserve Phil. He’d have said Phil gave him everything. He knows better now. Love doesn’t have to be earned. It’s a biological impulse, built into the limbic system to ensure survival and procreation. He deserves survival as much as anyone even though some days, he’s not sure he knows the point.

 

And he knows he’s never been handed anything. He works and he frets and he toils for everything he has. But in Phil, Dan found a match. He found someone who fills in his blank spaces and lifts away just a few of his dark parts, pulling them into a heart so light, they simply fade away. The parts that stay, swirling deep blue and black through Phil look beautiful on him. And now, so many years in, he can admit to himself that Phil found a match in him too.

 

“Dan,” Phil says, glancing away from the game for just a moment, “isn’t it Tuesday?”

Dan didn’t forget. He knows what he’s supposed to be doing. It’s just that the storm that so often rages in Dan’s mind is so quiet right now. He slips down to sit properly next to Phil and leans back, turning his head to stare. He’s the the most beautiful thing Dan had ever seen. From the first time he saw him, so out of reach, he knew no one would ever compare. That electric buzz Dan felt back then, that wild untethered flip in his gut, it matured. It’s better every day, deeper, more real. It’s not easy but it’s the one thing he doesn’t doubt.

 

The light is dimmer now. Dan leans forward to press his lips to the back of Phil’s neck. He can’t see his face but he knows there’s a smile there. He rakes his fingers over velvety hair and Phil presses his head back into Dan’s hand. Dan’s not sure it’s intentional, it’s just what they do, pushing and pulling, each in the other's orbit. So often, being in this place they chose together, enjoying a life they built, just existing next to Phil, is enough. Climbing into bed at the end of the end of the day to wind their bodies together is enough. Now though, Dan want company in the calm he feels. He wants more than than the 5 minutes of quiet he gets on his own.

 

He pulls a leg up under himself, turning to face Phil’s profile. He can smell him now, coffee and sugar and a hint of after shave. It’s the safest smell he knows. He breathes it in, then let’s the air escape, slow and warm over Phil’s neck, his cheek, his ear. He knows Phil goes weak for Dan’s breath in his ear. He knows just how to whisper Phil’s name so the little hairs on his neck stand up.

This. This is his meditation. Phil’s breath quickening from Dan’s voice alone. His fingers slipping round to Dan’s back, tracing up his spine, cradling his neck, running fingers through his hair.

That touch and the way Phil doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t speak, just turns and leans in close. The way he lays his body over Dan’s, the weight of him, his lips soft and insistent; it silences any noise left. He doesn’t need control. The only thoughts left are Phil and yes and more. _I love you_. He knows his worth here, not just in relation to Phil but in his own body and mind, down to his core. With everything stripped away, all that’s left is biology. There is only indiscriminate, unequivocal survival but here with Phil, Dan could swear he was living.

  



End file.
